


The Persistence of Memory

by tanks4thememory



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Evolution, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanks4thememory/pseuds/tanks4thememory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does Quorra in Legacy not remember the program who saved her life at the cost of his own? Perhaps, because someone didn't want her to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Persistence of Memory

_“Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.” ~Michel de Montaigne_

He sighed, looking around the small shelter he’d carved for them out of the raw code of the Outlands rock. Not much to look at. Not yet. But it would do for now. And he had time to work on it. He had nothing but time now.

That thought made him laugh, but it came out choked and bitter, more breath than sound. Time. How often had he wished for more time? More time for Sam? For Encom? For the Grid? There was never enough _time_ , never enough hours in the day. Even stretching his days to their limits by taking advantage of the time differential on the Grid there was never enough time for everyone. Never enough of him to go ‘round.

Now? Now he had all the time in the world. And no one to share it with. Nothing to use it for. The portal was closed. The ISOs were wiped out. Tron was dead in his defense. Clu had seized control of the Grid, and marked him as a threat. He had nothing left. Nothing but her.

He glanced over to where Quorra had been sitting, watching him work. Ah, she was finally asleep. Good. That made things easier.

Well, not easier. Not really. What he was going to do was probably wrong on several levels, and if he was being honest with himself, he damn well knew it. But self deception, he was realizing, had become one of his greatest skills over the years, so why start now?

Oh, he knew he’d have to start eventually. But they beauty of self deception was that he could lie about that too. At least long enough to fool himself into thinking that he wasn’t going to have to deal with the guilt for this later.

Gently, carefully, he undocked Quorra’s disc. She didn’t stir at all. Not so much as flutter an eyelash or flicker a circuit. She was exhausted. They both were. God, he wished he could sleep too. Just lay down there and close his eyes and drift off and sleep for days. Or millicycles, he supposed, now.

But he knew sleep wouldn’t bring him any rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Arjia falling. Heard Tron scream. Saw the body of the program he’d sent on a last, desperate mission to salvage _something_ , some remnant of his dream, crumble to dust. Saw his friends, now lost to him. Saw Sam.

God, Sam… What would he think? Would he think his father abandoned him? That he’d died? He didn’t fear for Sam’s safety, really; he had his grandparents, and he knew that Alan and Lora would care for him like he was their own. But he wouldn’t be there. He’d never see his son grow up. Never celebrate another birthday with him. Never take him to Disneyland. Never teach him to drive. Never see him graduate. Go to college. Fall in love. Get married. Maybe even have kids of his own someday. All those things a dad should be there for, all those things _he_ should have been… all gone.

He took a deep breath, exhaled shakily. He had to focus for this. Couldn’t afford a mistake. He’d made too many of those already. Of course, this in itself was probably a mistake, but hey, the beauty of self deception again.

He sat down Indian style a short distance away, settling Quorra’s disc in his lap and opening the display. He brought up the display, watching as it formed a tiny, rotating hologram of Quorra’s head for a moment before bringing up the layers of code and data that formed her. Searching carefully through her complex, ever-evolving code for her recent memory files. Older memories, the ones already written to long-term storage, he didn’t dare touch. But more recent memories, experiences that happened in the last few millicycles? Those, he might be able to do something with.

He couldn’t do much any more. Couldn’t help or protect those he loved, in either world. But maybe… just maybe, he could spare Quorra a bit of pain. The pain of watching someone she cared for die. He’d never wish that pain on anyone. About the larger, general loss of her people, he could do nothing. The most he could do was blunt the edge slightly, and he knew, deep down that it wasn’t going to be enough.

But it was all he could do now. Probably fitting that the only help he had to offer now would wind up screwing someone else over. He breathed a silent apology to Radia, who’s death Quorra would shortly no longer remember, to Anon, who would soon only be a friendly stranger to her, his fate unknown, and to whatever cosmic powers might be watching, in hopes at they all might somehow forgive him for what he was about to do.

Then, with hands that trembled faintly, Kevin Flynn set to work, the howling of the Outlands winds outside and the faint trickle of the energy spring he’d built their shelter around the only sounds, and the silent rocks his only witnesses. No one would ever know. No one except him.


End file.
